Heart's Spell
by the silver ferret
Summary: "Do not pity the dead, pity the living, and above all: those who live without love."


**Heart's Spell  
><strong>**"Do not pity the dead, pity the living, and above all: those who live without love."**

His eyes were grey, but not in a cold, steel-like way—rather like silver, shining and inviting in the grim smile he cast at her. His skin was pale as it had ever been and death-like, incredibly much so.

It came as no surprise that she didn't smile back.

Unlike him, her face was more alive than ever, blazing with a fire of so many things that she herself had lost count of them. Her eyes were dark, almost too much so; a colour that seemed unfit for her. The colour of anger, _fury_, rather, and hate and a whole lot of suppressed feelings behind that. Draco wondered if that was all for him. He hoped not.

"Are you—Are you alright?"

She merely shook her head, seemingly unable to let the smallest of sounds escape from her lips. Other than that, she didn't move either, and it scared him. Silence fell once more and he stared at her, right into her eyes, for they were supposed to be the windows to the soul.

Hers seemed so black right now.

Wasn't it supposed to be the other way round? Wasn't _he_ supposed to be the person that felt nothing but hate all the time? He _was_ a Death Eater, after all.

He wondered what his eyes told her. As she didn't say or do anything, he didn't suppose he was to find out soon, and therefore made the only decision he could think of. He walked up to her, slowly and deliberately (just in case), and wrapped his arms around her.

She was tense. He'd never felt her so tense before—it was like he was holding one of the stone gargoyles that guarded the castle. She looked heated, but she felt cold; she seemed furious, but he could tell she was on the edge of breaking down. He pressed her a little closer against him, asking _What's wrong?_ with the action.

The girl shrugged, as if trying to shake it all off her shoulders. Needless to say, it didn't work.

His breath felt warm in her neck and ironically enough did his icy-looking arms warm her entire body. "Draco…" she breathed, closing her eyes in fear of crying.

"I'm here. I'm right here." His thumb made little circles on the small of her back where it had descended to and they just stood there like that as words failed him and she didn't seem quite intend on saying anything at all. He wanted to ask her to _explain_ herself, to tell him what on earth was going on inside her head, but a part of him thought he already knew and honestly, he was bloody scared of the answer.

And then out of nothing she put her hands against his chest and pushed him away from her, her eyes watering but not sad, her posture upright and showing all the strength she could muster right there. _Get out._ Windows to the soul, they called eyes, and in this case it sure was right. Her eyes told him to get the fuck away from her, get away and stay away and never come back.

"What have I—"

But there was a flash of light which he only just ducked away from, and he didn't hesitate one second to get the bloody hell away from there.

"Stay away," here miraculously clear voice called after him, as if the past few minutes had never happened. The shadow of the sound kept ringing in his ears, feeling ever more like a warning that he didn't understand. Said ringing got all the way through to his heart, hurting it with every vibrate as if drilling it deeper and deeper into his body, ever deeper and more painful. Had he not been ready to protect her? Had he not just decided to give it all up if he had to? Did she have any idea how much trouble his mind had gone through, his thoughts, his beliefs, only to get to that very decision?

But of course she hadn't, 'cause she was ready to throw it away in an instant, wasn't she? His hands balled into fists and his jaw clenched, the wheels in his head turning like mad. 'Go away.' 'Stay away.' Repeat.

Very un-Slytherin-like, all he wanted was to punch her in the face.

But he didn't hit girls. For some reason, they always seemed to hit _him_.

His left arm burned—why now, why before he'd had the chance to get himself together? He considered ignoring it for even less than a second, but quickly discarded that idea. It was impossible. It wouldn't do anyone any good—not his parents, not himself, and above all, not Hermione. As if there was any chance at all that anything he did would do her good.

_Close your mind, Draco. Close your mind, or He'll know._ He, or aunt Bella, he didn't even know what would be worse. _Close it. For the both of you._

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and scraped all the courage he could find in him together, and then he was off to where he was expected as if the last months had never happened, but with a heavy heart.

Outside it was, in the heavy darkness of a night that held no stars. Too much evil there was, too much dark magic in one place for even mother nature to keep up. How exactly that dark magic had entered, Draco did not know, nor did he wish to. He didn't want to have anything to do with it, but he could not show.

His mind was as black as the sky.

"Draco, I see you've come." The Dark Lord's voice was cold like his entire person, and chilling to the bone, and Draco tried with all his might to suppress the shudders that ran over his spine as he walked past him.

Black. Keep it black. Like her eyes had been.

All around him was a great blur in everything that followed. There Potter was, the brave Gryffindor Knight, and his Weasels, and the great man he'd once deemed an old fool, and all those other people he didn't give a bloody damn about, and then there was she, the one clear face in a mass of nameless blots, staring at him through narrowed eyes that asked him why.

And he couldn't respond, because his windows were closed, black curtains behind silver eyes.

From the other end of the invisible line she stared at him, trying to read him, but it was impossible. He looked like he'd had all these previous years, like she didn't know him at all, and a part of her really wished she didn't. It should've all been a dream, all kind words and sweet caresses and silent cries and secret but so good nights together.

There it was that her mind went black, remembering her to keep itself shut. Black like the night, like his, like everything that could become of her this very night. An endless night of nothingness.

And suddenly everyone was everywhere, invisible lines were blurred, flashes of light split the dark, red, green, blue, purple.

Pink.

She didn't even know any spell that fired pink.

It had taken her a second too long to think about, she knew that when something heavy crashed into her. "It's a heart's spell," the something whispered, and she swallowed—she'd heard about those.

"You mean—"

"I mean I love you," were his parting words, before he turned his back on her once more.

He couldn't do that. She wouldn't let him. This couldn't be it.

He smiled vaguely at her as he noticed her staring, and she didn't care that they were in the middle of a great fight because at this moment, there was no fight, there was only him and the thought that she couldn't be losing him, not because he thought she needed protection, not because of other's inability to love. There was just no way.

"I love you," she said, loud and clearly, although wondering if anyone would hear her at all in the middle of all this chaos. As long as he heard it. "I told you to stay away." Her voice was now a whisper, but it didn't matter, for he was there, close, as if shielding her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her lips, tickling breath, a warm, loving tongue, and all she wanted was to never let go, as it had been so often lately. Biggest wish, loving mind, heart's desire. Arms embracing, love showing, together forever in a night so dark.

And so be it. For even though nights and days still exist, and the sun still sets and rises, this only happens to those whose minds are on this planet, with the living, the crying, the grieving. Such feelings one does not take with them in death; only blissful oblivion. No notice of seasons changing and flowers blossoming and leaves falling, no feelings of physical pain caused by true evil. There is no time, only forever, but one must remember: forever is an awfully long time.

For with great victory, comes great sacrifice.

_**Heart's Spell**__—a spell that can only be cast by someone who knows true love, yet cannot express it. The effects of it are only known to those who experience it, for they are different to anyone. Beware, however: with great love, comes great sacrifice._


End file.
